


In a hundred lifetimes

by frostysunflowers



Series: Tomorrow is another day [5]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Adult Peter Parker, Aliens, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Apocalypse, Character Death, Father-Son Relationship, Feels, Female Peter Parker, Female Tony Stark, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Mush, I have a lot of feelings, Kid Tony Stark, Multiverse, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Parallel Universes, Parent Tony Stark, Pepperony - Freeform, Peter Parker Feels, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Pop Culture, Precious Peter Parker, Role Reversal, Science Fiction, Star Wars References, Stony - Freeform, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Villain Tony Stark, Whump, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 11:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19005250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostysunflowers/pseuds/frostysunflowers
Summary: Tony once told Peter that he believed in the multiverse theory; believed in the idea that for every Tony Stark, there would always be a Peter Parker.He was right.The spin off/companion piece to my 'Tomorrow is another day' series that nobody asked for but you’re gonna get anyway.Can also be read as a stand alone fic!





	In a hundred lifetimes

**Author's Note:**

> This came from the scene in 'Being Alive' where Tony talks about the multiverse and from the opening part of 'And Love Dares You to Change our Way of Caring About Ourselves' but it's pretty self explanatory really and those don't need to be read, but if you wanna read them first then please do! 
> 
> Please forgive errors and excuse the incredibly vast amount of artistic licence being used here haha. 
> 
> Tread carefully readers, what lies ahead is full of angst and fluff and shameless sci-fi movie rip offs. 
> 
> Dedicated to our dear Tony Stark on his birthday, the 29th of May. I love and miss you 3000!

 

_'And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.' - The Chaos of Stars by Kiersten White._

 

* * *

 

 

In the fiery bowels of the once thriving colonist base on LV-426, Tony pulls a trembling Peter into his arms and holds tight. Vicious winds swirl around them as the structure begins to buckle and collapse; the clanking sound of metal falling from above can barely be heard over the booming explosions and fierce snapping of the fires that rage all around.

Tony fumbles for the rail of the platform as it shakes beneath him and stares around desperately, searching for any sign of an escape, for some way that he can get them the hell out of this.

Then he hears the sound of the elevator arriving and slowly turns his head. He feels Peter do the same and instantly rakes a hand into the boy’s sweaty hair. The elevator doors slide slowly open and the Queen snarls sinisterly at them from inside, thick saliva dripping from its giant teeth and long willowy limbs reaching out for them. Tony knows what she wants; he destroyed her eggs, killed her children, and now she wants to take his in revenge.

With a sharp sigh, he pulls Peter even closer, hand turning his head so the kid can’t see the haunting, hungry face of the monster stalking towards them. He knows they’re not getting out of this.

''Close your eyes, kid.''

Tony clenches his own watering eyes shut only for a moment before he hears Peter’s voice, barely discernible over the wind, shout, ''Look!!''

Tony whirls around and tucks forward a little bit in absolute shock as the dropship rises up behind them. He casts a glance back at the approaching beast behind them before looking up to the cockpit window to see Happy looking back at him with wide eyes.

He momentarily considers swearing at the android before the boarding ramp is being lowered before them. Tony wastes no time in hoisting Peter up on to the steps.

''Come on, come on!'' Peter yells, reaching over to yank on the back of Tony’s jacket as he pulls himself up, legs dangling precariously for a moment before he feels Peter tug him further aboard.

More explosions rock the air and send the dropship careering to the left as they stumble inside. Tony grabs hold of Peter again and bundles him into one of the seats.

''Punch it, Happy!'' he yells as he pulls the safety belt around them.

The ship sways dangerously under the force of another detonation before shooting forward with a violent burst of speed, bumping through the turbulent air like a ship on the ocean waves. Tony closes his eyes, buries his face in Peter’s hair and prays, prays, _prays –_

There’s a sudden sharp silence, a blinding white light that he can see through his eyelids, then a deafening bang that seems to consume the ship whole and it’s only when he hears Happy call ''It’s okay, we’re okay,'' over the communicator that he dares to open his eyes.

He feels Peter’s weight settle further into him as the kid relaxes a little. Tony turns his head to get a better look at him. His young face is smeared with dirt and sweat and there’s a little cut above his left eyebrow and, most importantly, he’s _alive._

''Hey,'' he reaches up to tug gently on Peter’s hair. ''We made it, kiddo.''

Peter regards him with shining eyes and a small smile. ''I knew you’d come for me.''

Tony grins before pressing a victorious kiss to Peter’s temple.

 

* * *

 

In another time, it’s a dark and wet night.

Rain is falling on Tony Stark in big fat droplets, hitting his face and his eyelashes and making him blink rapidly up into the hazy lights. There’s a blistering pain somewhere near his stomach and his hands have something thick seeping through them.

The floor beneath him vibrates with noise and footsteps and there’s voices swirling above him in an indistinguishable wave.

Until one rings out loud and clear.

''Uncle Tony! Uncle Tony, it’s gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay…''

Peter…

Peter is leaning over him, hair damp and clumped together in thick chunks of curls, and his eyes are wide with panic. He looks so young, so afraid, and it makes Tony’s already aching chest burn with a tight pain.

He can hear someone else talking, hears the words 'robbery' and 'gunshot' and 'looks bad' and the panicked look on Peter’s face twists into something broken and terrified. Wet fingers push through the thickness surrounding his own and hold on tight.

''You’re gonna be okay, Uncle Tony, yeah? Y-you’re gonna be okay, t-the ambulance will be here s-soon…''

Tony feels a groan slip out of his throat as he tries to speak, tries to tell the boy that it’s okay, tries to reassure him, make him feel better like he’s always been able to. He wants to tell him that before long, they’ll be back at home with May, having yet another Star Wars marathon whilst waiting for their usual Friday night pizza delivery.

But all he can manage is a soft, raspy ''Peter…'' before the world slips away, taking him off on a fast current, leaving him with nothing but darkness and the mournful sound of his nephew calling his name.

 

* * *

 

On Earth 214589, Tony Stark sticks his gloved fingers under his armpits and lets out a shivering sigh, watching with dark, tired eyes as the swirl of breath whirls up into the frigid air.

He hates the winter, loathes it with a furious passion. It just seems to get colder and colder every year and, because life is a bitch like that, warm clothes and decent food become harder and harder to find. 

After he’d been rescued from Afghanistan, broken and battered but alive nonetheless, he had returned with a determination to right all the wrongs he had dealt to the world. He’d wanted to help contribute to a better world, one where he could help others make peace instead of fight it with high tech weapons.

Unfortunately, the world hadn’t liked that.

Stocks had plummeted, staff had quit in their droves and Obie had wiped the floor with him, eventually leaving him with nothing but the clothes on his back and his wits which, let’s face it, were already shot to shit.

So he disappeared. Made it so his friends could never find him, didn’t have to suffer the burden of him, became a faceless unknown on the streets of Manhattan, digging for food in the trash and tucking himself away in doorways and guarding his sleeping bag like it was worth more than all the diamonds in the world. His battered backpack contained all that he had; he’d long given up crafting suitable shelters with whatever he could find in the dank alleyways because it just wasn’t worth the violence that it invited, so he kept it all hidden, kept it close, kept himself concealed.

The great Tony Stark.

What a joke.

He blows on his fingers before tucking them back under his arms again. Yup, it was going to be one hell of a rough winter.

''Hey, Mister Stark.''

''Oh, hey, kid. How you doing?''

Still, it could be worse.

The kid, fresh from school and a little breathless, drops down beside him and holds something out to him.

''Number five, squashed down flat with extra pickles.'' He places the sandwich in Tony’s lap. ''And some soup,’’ Peter adds, holding up a red thermos with a smile which Tony returns before accepting the flask.

''Thanks, kid.'' He says as he twists the cap off and inhales in the delectable scent of tomato and basil. ''Homemade?'' he asks.

Peter snorts as he unwraps his own sandwich on his lap. ''Of course! Well, not by me, 'cause that would be a disaster. It’s Mister Delmar’s super secret recipe.''

''Super secret, huh?'' Tony takes a sip, savouring the scalding of the liquid on his tongue. ''Definitely some paprika in there.'' He muses after another taste.

''Nope,'' Peter says through a mouthful of pastrami. ''I checked.''

Tony rolls his eyes at the kid, earning a bashful chuckle, and takes another gulp, sighing in delight as he feels warmth flood his body.

Peter had been stopping by nearly every day for almost six months, ever since Tony, scouting for supplies, had stumbled upon a mugger pressing a knife into the kid’s throat at the edge of an alley. Tony had wasted no time in ferociously clouting the guy over the head with a nearby trash can lid and had pocketed the knife for any future self-defence needs that may arise.

He’d waved off the kid’s stumbling words of thanks, only pausing in his attempt to leave when the kid referred to him as ‘Mister Stark.’ Floored by the use of the name, of hearing it spoken with such respect and softness, Tony could only nod dumbly as the kid vowed to repay him, had hurried away with promises of finding him again soon.

Tony had barely had time to doubt the kid’s word - _Peter’s_ word - before he had indeed found Tony the following afternoon and offered him a squashed hotdog and a bottle of water.

Tony expected the visits to last a few weeks, a month at best, before the kid grew bored and found something better to do.

But Peter Parker, as he eventually grew to learn, was nothing if not persistent.

To his credit, Peter never mentioned or asked Tony about his past; the only reference ever made was when Peter sometimes asked for help with his homework and Tony, desperate for something to ease the constant yawning chasm of boredom in his mind, was more than happy to help.

The kid was smart, kind, good; he had no business spending time with someone like Tony. He was in high school, didn’t live in a particularly affluent area of Queens and sure as hell didn’t get much of an allowance but insisted of spending at least half of it on Tony. He was supposed to be doing something fun, exciting, worthwhile, not...this. 

''Why do you keep coming back around here, kid?'' Tony had asked one day after sniffing greedily at the cheeseburger Peter had handed him.

Peter had blinked in confusion. ''Because you’re my friend,'' he’d replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Tony peers at the kid thoughtfully over the rim of the thermos. Peter looks back at him and wrinkles his nose teasingly, perfectly at ease, perfectly comfortable with sitting beside a dumpster on a freezing winter’s afternoon with the husk of the man Tony used to be.

How the world could simultaneously be home to someone as pure as Peter Parker and someone as ruthless as Obadiah Stane, Tony would never understand.

But he’s grateful, very much so.

Because the world needs people like Peter Parker.

 

* * *

 

Far across the cosmos and two steps across the vacuum of time, Earth is dying.

They’d been warned long ago, all that talk of global warming and the oceans filling up with rubbish; the increasing number of earthquakes and the tsunamis that became regular occurrences instead of shocking tragedies; the weather becoming warmer and warmer and the icy climates turning into gigantic puddles of water.

They’d been warned.

But nothing could be done, it had already been too late. Humanity had no claim to the world, no power over the relentless power of nature itself. No amount of heroes could save the it now.

Tony Stark’s face appears as the Iron Man mask melts away. Eyes wide with agony and sadness search the area, taking in the devastation, the destruction, the screaming people that cower together as they watch the heavens begin to grow dark while the sun turns red above the New York skyline.

He sees her then. She’s in her suit but not wearing her mask, stumbling across the rubble, tears falling from her eyes as she cries.

''Penny!'' Her name flies from his mouth before he can stop himself.

She turns immediately to find the source of his voice and their eyes lock.

Fire rages around them and deep cracks run through the earth and everything is about to collapse in on itself but Tony doesn’t care anymore.

All he sees is her.  

Penny visibly freezes as she catches sight of him and Tony drinks in the sight of her, of her wild hair and wide brown eyes and button nose and feels something long dead inside of him burst into being once again.

For two years they’ve been on opposing sides; for two long years he’d had to endure knowing nothing about her life apart from whispered rumours and possible sightings as she and the rogue Avengers made their way across the world, always staying hidden, always out of sight.

He’d shoved her away, he knew that. Consumed by his own grief, overpowered by his own bitter rage and regret for what happened in Siberia and with the Accords, he’d unleashed his torment on her, destroyed their relationship in one brutal hit, completely forgetting that his own tried and true method of self-destruction would break her too.

It was all his fault; with nowhere to go, nobody else to turn to, who else could she go to but Steve Rogers?

Two years of not knowing, always wondering, worrying, missing her. It’s a waste that he’ll never forgive himself for.

Just like he'll never forgive himself for never bringing her back home.

Not that home really exists anymore; New York, like the rest of the cities across the planet, is already lost.

This is no place for a friendly neighbourhood Spider-Girl.

And it’s definitely no place for Penny Parker.

There’s nowhere else better though, not now. The world is falling apart, tearing itself to shreds in furious snarls of fire and vicious swaths of ice and unforgiving tides of water that sweep through everything in their path.

The world is ending and there’s _absolutely nowhere_ to go. He sees Steve lingering somewhere in the background, the man coming to a standstill as he spots Tony, but still Tony never looks away from Penny. He wants to talk to her, tell her so much, tell her what he should have been telling her every day for the last two years.

He takes a step forward and the movement seems to trigger something in Penny as she’s suddenly running towards him, fresh tears streaming from her eyes, and he’s opening his arms for her, desperate to hold her.

''Oh, baby girl,'' he mumbles into her hair as she collapses into him, running his fingers through the tousled locks. ''It’s okay, it’s okay.''

''I wanna go home, Mister Stark,'' she weeps into his neck as he curls his arms around her, wondering when she got taller, wondering how he could have let himself miss so much. ''Please, I wanna go home.''

''I gotcha, honey,'' he whispers, meeting Steve’s regretful stare across the blazing wasteland as the sky grows ever darker and a ferocious wind begins to swirl around them. ''It’s gonna be okay.''

Tony mutters those words over and over again until the world rises up and swallows them whole.

 

* * *

 

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, Tony Stark is not having a good day.

''Why are you taking this apart now?'' Tony grumbles exasperatedly, staring at the mess of wires and tools at his feet. ''I’m trying to get us outta here and you’ve just started yanking all these –''

He’s cut off by a furious roar and raises his eyebrows as Happy throws a blowtorch down in anger.

''Alright, alright! Calm down, fuzzball!'' He holds up a placating hand and pats the Wookiee on the shoulder. ''Just get down and switch the power off while I take a look.''

He peers into the electrical bed on the outside of the Falcon and slaps some goggles on before grabbing the blowtorch. If they’re gonna get out of here anytime soon, he _needs_ the ship to start cooperating.

''You gonna stop being so sassy, huh?'' he gripes, smacking the blowtorch against a panel before soldering a few wires, ignoring the undeniably grumpy groan that the Falcon gives in response from somewhere deep inside the engines.

A few minutes pass before he lifts his head to look over at where Happy is sat in the cockpit. ''Alright, that’s it. Try it!'' he calls as he removes his goggles.

Happy flicks a switch and sparks immediately begin shooting into the air and a puff of acrid smoke envelops Tony. ''Whoa! Turn it off, turn it off!!'' he yells, stumbling blindly away. ''TURN IT OFF!''

Happy’s cantankerous yells echo through the hangar for a good long while. Tony bitterly recruits a nearby maintenance bot to come and run some checks on the ship while he and Happy see to the simpler repairs that are required. He’s just about to rip the bot a new one for pestering him with useless information when he hears Happy let out a cheerful rumble from somewhere below.

He spots the kid walking over, lightsaber swinging on his utility belt, hair flopping into his wide, innocent eyes and an expression that looks all too serious for his young face.

''Hi kid,'' he calls down from his perch, waving the annoying bot away with a flap of his hand. ''You alright?''

Peter nods. ''Yeah, you?''

''Oh, swell!'' He gestures to the Falcon. ''Just about ready to get the hell off this rock, any minute now.''

Peter’s face darkens with unhappiness, though he tries hard to hide it by ducking his head a little. Tony feels the corner of his mouth quirk into a small smile as the kid goes to say something, thinks better of it, scratches his head thoughtfully before trying again.

''You seen Pepper?''

''Where her Highnessness goes is nothing to do with me, kid,'' Tony says airily with a shrug. ''Probably off being a pain in someone else’s ass for a change.''

''Maybe she wouldn’t be so angry at you if you decided to stay.''

Tony meets Peter’s eyes; those damn eyes that make him feel a stupid surge of fondness for this scrap of a kid whenever he looks at him. How the hell he got mixed up fighting with the Rebels to take down the Empire, he’d never know.  

Though maybe it was something to do with a kid with a hero complex and a desire to go be a goddamn Jedi and a beautiful but infuriating Princess worming their way into his life. He’d never asked for it, never wanted it; Happy and the Falcon had always been enough.

That’s just how it was now, though. And that’s what made it so hard to leave.

Even if he did stay, Jabba and his cronies would find him eventually, which meant Jabba would find _them_ too.

''That’s two you owe me, Junior,'' he’d joked after he’d saved Peter from freezing to death out in the Hoth wilderness and he wasn’t prepared to be the reason that the kid would need saving again.  

Especially if he wasn’t there to save the kid himself.

Tony sighs and looks away from Peter, choosing instead to focus on steadfastly ignoring the funny feeling in his chest.

''Plenty of heroes to go around here, kid.'' He said with a dry smile. ''Don’t wanna cramp their style.''

Peter’s hopeful expression turned into a scowl. ''Well, take care of yourself, Tony.'' He smiled coldly, though Tony could see the hurt in his eyes. ''I guess that’s what your best at, isn’t it?''

_Damn it._

''Hey, Peter!'' His voice is just loud enough over the din of the hangar to stop the kid in his tracks. He smiles as Peter looks back at him. ''May the Force be with you.''

Something soft flickers across Peter’s features before he gives Tony a short nod and walks away.

Tony watches him go, an uncomfortable sensation of guilt and fear twisting in his stomach.

_Good luck, kid._

 

* * *

 

Along the belt of Orion and several realities over, Tony huffs out a contented sigh as the fingers on his head continue to trail a soothing path, rendering him boneless and content. Afternoons are always his favourite part of the day; the sunshine is warm and bright through the bedroom window, the air is peaceful and fresh and Pepper is beside him, soft and familiar and just all kinds of wonderful.

He stretches out his left leg with a lazy grumble, rolling over slightly so Pepper can run a hand along his side, scratching in just the way that he likes. It’s then that he spots the funny little creature perched on the bedside table, tucked up against the lamp upon a pretty pattern that seems to sparkle in the sunlight.

Tony stares at it, lifting his head to get a better look. The creature looks interesting, a mixture of different shades of colour that Tony can’t quite distinguish, though he remembers Pepper referring to similar tints as red and blue. Nothing like his own colour, which he's heard Pepper describes as 'iron grey'. Its eight legs are long and fuzzy looking and its body is round and big, but somehow it still looks small and delicate, like it could be squashed if someone aimed well enough with a newspaper. It peers back at him with multiple eyes that are wide and unblinking but strangely endearing.

''Oh, Tony!'' Pepper looks up from her homework and swats him lightly on the head. ''You aren’t scaring that pretty spider, are you?''

Spider? Tony snorts his displeasure at being hit before looking back at the creature – spider – with interest. Huh, it _is_ kinda pretty, he supposes.

''What should we name him?'' Pepper muses, moving her hand to rub Tony’s ear, causing his leg to twitch in a pleased rhythm. ''Hmm…pretty…how about Peter?''

Peter the spider.

''Pretty Peter the spider,'' Pepper says with a giggle. ''Say hi to Peter, Tony.''

Tony immediately gives a soft bark which turns into a curious whine as the spider – Peter – waves a hairy leg at him.

''Aw, he likes you,'' Pepper coos happily, giving him an extra big scratch. ''Now you’ll have someone to keep you company when I’m at school.''

That would be nice, Tony thinks, settling back onto his front and resting his head on the paws.

Yeah, he thinks as Peter scurries up onto his snout a little later on, eyes big and curious and legs jittering excitedly against his fur, that would be real nice.

 

* * *

 

In a world where the dead walk the earth, Tony Stark knows that they’re screwed.

He checks the chamber of his gun and swears as his thoughts are confirmed.

There’s only one bullet left.

The door against his back shakes and groans under the snarling weight pushing into it from the other side; the sound of the ravenous monsters behind it is almost deafening.

They lost Rhodey two weeks ago when gathering supplies in an abandoned grocery store. Steve had gone down two days later in a hail of bullets and blood and Clint had simply walked off into the darkness one night and never returned.

Tony has no idea where Pepper and Happy are. They’d all been together when the small yet bloodthirsty hoard had burst into their safehouse. From the other side of the room, it was all Tony could do to grab Peter and shout for them to run. He hopes with all his heart that they got out somehow.

Now, he and the kid are trapped in the desolate remains of a living room, an empty husk of what once was, with their feet digging into the floor and their backs up against the door, trying to fight back against the horror that surrounds them.

Tony doesn’t need to think twice. He knows that this is the end.

There’s only one bullet left.

They’d had the discussion once before; if either one of them gets bit, the other will do what needs to be done.

Tony takes one last proper look at Peter, tries to ignore the frantic look of desperation, the veins straining in his neck as he leans against the door with all his might, the panicked gritting of his teeth and the smears of dirt and blood all over his skin; tries to remember the bright, happy smiles he used to wear, the sparkling light of excitement he used to get in his eyes, the eager lilt to his voice whenever he spoke about something that he loved and the way he would constantly fidget and never sit still.

Tries to remember the young, carefree boy he used to be.

Tony steels himself as best he can. He twitches his fingers to ready the gun.

''Peter.'' he rasps, voice way too quiet against the vicious screeching coming from behind them. The door pushes open a crack and Peter’s head falls back against the buckling wood with a thud, letting out a strained grunt that tells Tony that he’s listening.

''I’m sorry, kid.''

''N – don’t say that,'' Peter says through his gritted teeth, closing his eyes. ''We can – we can make it!''

Oh, kiddo, Tony thinks to himself, if only you were right.

There’s only one bullet left.

And it’s not meant for him.

If this is what it means to save someone these days, Tony’s glad he’s going to be dead soon.

Besides, there would be no point in living after this anyway.

God, he hopes the kid knows how much Tony loves him.

Tony presses his lips into a thin line to hold back the sob lurching up in his throat, aims the gun at Peter's head and fires.

 

* * *

 

A hop, skip and a jump across from the current timeline, Tony Stark can’t quite move.

He stares at the sight in front of him, body frozen and eyes unblinking, completely and utterly mesmerised.

He thought he knew beauty before, but this is something else.

Pepper, exhausted and tired with flushed sweaty skin and lank red hair, beams sleepily up at him from the bed. In her arms, wrapped in a red and blue blanket, lies a baby.

 _His_ baby.

His _son._

''Tony.'' Pepper’s voice is soft in a way he’s never heard before. ''Come over here.''

To his amazement, his feet obey. He sidles up to the bedside, eyes still unblinking for fear that the beautiful sight before him will vanish if he looks away for more than a split second.

Mere minutes ago, his mouth had been running a million miles an hour, throwing out every single word of praise and comfort he could think of as Pepper held his hand in a crushing grip and pushed their child into the world.

Now, he can’t think of a single thing to say.

Pepper’s eyes sparkle knowingly at him. ''Sit down.''

He does, sliding into the chair by the bed with uncharacteristic slowness.

''I’m going to give him to you now, okay?''

It isn’t really a question; she never asks him, she always tells, and he always listens because, as he’s learnt over the years, she’s always right.

Not that he’d ever admit it.

He swallows and moves closer as she lifts the baby away from her chest, hand cupping the back of his tiny head as she passes him over.

As the baby is placed into his arms, something inside Tony seems to click into place, and suddenly the world seems to make sense in a way it never did before. It’s a strangely soothing sensation, no fanfare or alarms, just the wonderful weight of his boy in his arms and the flow of love rushing through his veins.

He looks down at the baby, takes in the fluffy tuft of dark hair and blotchy skin, and lets out an audible gasp as a pair of eyes suddenly open to stare back up at him, thoughtful and innocent and oh so amazing.

''Hey there,'' he whispers, running the pad of his thumb in a feather light brush across a soft cheek. ''Hi, kiddo. Nice of you to finally join us.''

The baby opens his mouth slightly and snuffles into the edge of the blanket swaddling him.

''Giving me sass already, huh?'' Tony says softly. ''You’ve clearly been spending too much time with your mother.''

He casts a glance up at Pepper. She’s watching them with such an intense look of love that Tony can only smile back at her, completely at a loss for a way to express the sheer amount of emotion he’s feeling.

''We still need a name, you know.'' She says as Tony resumes gazing down at his son. ''Preferably before your parents arrive so your father can finally stop referring to him as Howard Junior.''

''We’ve got a name,'' he replies, watching with all the wonder of a new father as the baby frees a hand from the blankets and waves it erratically from side to side, grunting softly.

''We do?''

''Yeah. Remember, from that dream I had? Your eccentric uncle?''

Pepper rolls her eyes but the smile never leaves her face. She leans forward to look at the baby more closely, lips pursed in though for a moment, before she nods.

''He definitely looks like one.''

''What, an eccentric uncle?''

Pepper glares playfully at him and he huffs out a chuckle which turns into something embarrassingly like a whimper as a tiny fist seizes hold of his little finger. Tony curls his thumb to rub gently against the delicate skin pressing against the roughness of his. 

‘’Peter,’’ he murmurs, the name rolling off his tongue perfectly. ‘’Hi, Peter.’’

The tiny fingers increase their grip and Tony knows that his boy approves.

 

* * *

 

In a reality where nothing is as it should be, death is thick in the air.

Tony Stark’s breath leaves him in harsh bursts as he stares down at the prone figure of Steve Rogers lying on the ground in front of him.

Bucky is long dead; had barely moved before Tony’s repulsors had blasted him through the stomach and sent his lifeless body flying out into the icy abyss.

Steve had lunged at him, brimming with uncontrollable rage and anguish, and Tony had fought back with the same measure of ceaseless anger and sorrow, had unleashed hit after hit after hit, not stopping as Steve shouted incomprehensible words at him, not letting up as the shield finally fractured under his fists, not stopping until Steve was sprawled out on the frozen floor in a puddle of blood.

There’s a clanking sound as Tony sinks to his knees. The mask for the suit lies somewhere behind him, split clean in half, and his reactor is sparking in painful jolts against his chest, but he can’t take his eyes off the man on the ground.

Captain America.

Steve Rogers.

His _friend._

''Mister Stark?''

His head jerks up. Peter, dressed in his Spider-Man suit save for the mask which he’s clutching with both hands, stares at him with an expression of horror. His wide eyes move from Tony’s to look at Steve and he lets out a distressed gasp.

''Oh my _god._ Mister Sta – what happened, is he okay? _Holy shit!''_

Peter hurries forward to kneel beside Steve. His fingers dance anxiously over the man’s head and when he presses two of them against the place where a pulse should have been, Tony snaps.

''GET AWAY!'' He surges forward with a snarl and shoves Peter, sending the kid flying onto his back.

''Mister Stark!'' Peter yelps, looking at with eyes full of bewildered fear. ''He needs help – ''

''GET OUT!''

Peter slowly rises to his feet. With a trembling lower lip and teary eyes, he meets Tony’s gaze with a defiant ''no.''

With an animalistic roar, Tony leaps forward and seizes the kid by the neck, barrelling him backwards until his back crashes into the wall. Tony’s other hand comes up, repulsor whirring to life and blazing directly into the kid’s face –

Into _Peter's_ face.

Tony falters, coming back to himself as he takes in the young boy before him. White clouds form between them as they breathe heavily; he can feel Peter shivering under his hand, the erratic jump of a pulse beneath his fingers, see the tears cascading down Peter’s ruddy cheeks as he looks back at him, eyes frightened and full of hurt.

There’s a dead man on the floor behind him and there was almost a dead kid joining him.

''Pe - _Kid,_ I – I, oh god – '' Tony releases his hold on Peter’s neck, flinching as the kid sucks in a ragged gasp of air, and collapses back onto his knees with his face buried in his hands.

He never meant for this, never meant for _any_ of this. He just wanted to do the right thing, make things better, keep everybody safe, and now Steve, _his friend,_ was dead by his hand and Peter –

Peter was by his side, tentatively hooking his arms around Tony’s shoulders and drawing him into a quivering embrace that Tony didn’t deserve.

''It’s o-okay, Mister Stark,'' he whispered, voice thick with the lie. ''It’s okay.''

But it isn’t.

And it never will be again.

 

* * *

 

Somewhere in quite a familiar world, the lights in a gigantic movie theatre come to life and shine down upon the rows and rows of applauding people. Wild cheers and piercing whistles drown out the pounding music as actor after actor walks out onto the stage in front of the gargantuan screen and takes a bow.

''And here he is, the man, the legend, Tony Stark himself: ROBERT DOWNEY JUNIOR!''

Robert struts onto the stage, roses in each hand, and launches them into the screaming crowd before taking a bow and blowing multiple kisses into the air. He joins the others, hugging and laughing along with them as the announcer introduces the directors onto the stage. It isn’t long before they are all being ushered into their own seats and Robert wriggles into the luxury cushions with an exaggerated sigh, chuckling when Hemsworth rubs his shoulder fondly as he passes.

''Hey, Iron Man, you’re in my seat.''

Robert looks up to see Tom Holland grinning down at him.

''Ah come on, you know I saved you a seat right next to me.'' He says and pats the seat to this left with a grin.

Tom rolls his eyes and flops down with all the grace of a dancer, shifting around until his shoulder is slightly leaning into Robert’s bicep and one leg is crossed over the other.

''You ready for this, bud?''

''Oh, yeah,'' Tom nods, foot bouncing a little nervously as his eyes twitch all over the place. ''So ready.''

Robert smirks. ''Whatever you say, Spider-Man.''

Robert won’t admit that he’s nervous too. He knows how the movie ends, knows what’s coming more than any of the others do; that’s the privilege one gets when they’ve been in the franchise from the beginning. It’s an emotionally bittersweet ride and though he’s said his goodbyes, his chest tightens a little as the reality of it all dawns on him all over again.

He meets Tom’s searching gaze and smiles warmly at the young man that he’s grown ever so fond of over the last few years. The time spent together on and off screen has led to a great bond being formed, and it’s this great bond that allows for hijacking interviews, recording mischievous videos for Instagram together, mocking each other’s accents and, most importantly, creating a connection that isn’t so different from the one that their characters share, though there’s less web slinging and iron suits involved.

Though their journey on screen together, at least where Spider-Man and Iron Man are concerned, may be coming to the end, this right here, Robert thinks as he hooks a friendly arm around Tom’s shoulders and gives him a quick hug, this is forever.

 

* * *

 

In a timeline flipped backwards, Tony Stark watches in horror as all those around him turn to dust.

He feels his stomach clench with dismay as Quill looks at him with an expression of agonised fear and deep regret and mutters a bitter 'oh, man' before vanishing on the wind.

''Mister Stark?''

He whirls around to look at Peter. ''Kid? You okay?''

Peter pats himself on the chest and abdomen a few times before glancing up and nodding. ''I – I think so.''

Tony feels it then. A tingling sensation creeping up his spine, his skin dragging as though being pulled by an invisible force that grows stronger and stronger –

_Oh no._

He sees Peter looking at him with terrified eyes and staggers forward to grip the kid by the shoulders, clinging on as he feels his legs begin to crumble.

''Mister Stark? Y-you’re okay, you’re okay, r-right? It’s alright – ''

_Oh god he can’t leave the kid here alone._

Peter, for all his super spider strength, buckles under Tony’s weight and they crash onto the floor, Tony on his back and Peter leaning over him.

'' _Kid_ – ''

''Please don’t go,'' Peter whimpers, reaching up to rest a hand against the side of Tony’s head, fingers threading into his hair like that alone will tether him to the world. ''Please, M-Mister Stark, sir, please...''

Tony reaches up to touch the kid’s cheek but can only watch with increasing agony as his fingers swirl into dust against Peter’s skin.

_Please. I can’t leave him._

There’s hardly an ounce of strength left in Tony now. The emotions raging a war inside him fight for dominance for as long as they can until they too begin to flake into nothing. The desperation to stay, the stubborn denial of what’s happening, the _need_ to fight back, to hold on, to not leave Peter here alone is snatched away, leaving nothing but a lingering regret and a whisper of the love he’d never spoken of but should have voiced long before now.

When he still had the chance.

''Pete,'' he breathes, feeling the last of himself fall to pieces. ''I’m sorry.''

Tony vanishes with a mournful sigh, leaving nothing but a wave of ashes and a teenage boy crying into the spot where he once was.

 

* * *

 

One particular trail of an alternate universe leads to a long-suffering Tony Stark hiding in the back of a car and rolling his eyes at the irritated voice jabbering at him through his earpiece.

 _‘'I_ _still don’t see why I have to be the one to do this!’'_

''Kid, I know I’m impressively gorgeous for my age, but there is a line.''

_''I don’t even know how old you are!''_

''Exactly.''

_''That’s not – you could have gone undercover as a teacher!''_

''A teacher of what exactly?''

_''I don’t know! Maybe you could teach Gym or something.''_

''Gym? _Gym?_ Are you serious?''

_''Oh, I’m sorry, did I hurt your feelings? Well now you know how I feel.''_

''That’s still no reason to insult me.''

_''Insult y – I’m the one being made to masquerade as a high school kid!''_

''I hate to break it to you, kid, but part of being a secret agent involves going undercover. Didn’t you get the memo?''

_''I know that but this is ridic – ''_

''Maybe try growing some facial hair. Or stop wearing dorky shirts. Oh, hey, platform shoes are in again, get some of those and you’ll look tall. Or, you know, average height at least.''

_''…I hate you so much.''_

''Love you too, sweetheart! Have a good day at school!''

 

* * *

 

It’s a sunny day on E-123.

A rather offensive state for the world to be in, Tony Stark thinks, all things considered.

In the movies, it’s always dark when someone dies, gloomy and melancholy. Sometimes it rains in heavy downpours that seem endless. 

But not here, not today. The warm sunlight carries through the hospital window in enchanting rays and the breeze blowing against the curtain smells of freshly cut grass.

How can someone die on a day like today?

Tony looks over to where Peter is lying across two plastic chairs, Tony’s suit jacket draped over him as a makeshift blanket. The bed that May had been in less than an hour ago has been moved out, so it’s just the two of them now.

His lawyer was on her way; Pepper didn’t waste any time with this sort of thing.  

 ** _She’s gone_** was all he’d managed to type in a message as he held an inconsolable Peter, fighting back tears of his own as the boy wailed his sorrow into Tony’s shoulder.

The answering reply of **_Lawyers are heading to you now_** was a strange sort of comfort, but at least it meant that he could focus on Peter for the time being before all the paperwork came flying at him.

He crouches down beside the sleeping boy. There’s tear tracks staining his cheeks and Tony’s hands itch to wipe away the traces of May’s blood that cling to the hand that’s holding onto the edge of Tony’s jacket.

He didn’t sign up for this. Mentoring sure, but this? This was beyond his area of expertise. The kid deserved someone capable, someone who wasn’t a somewhat well concealed mess, someone who could actually be something of a decent role model –

Someone who wasn’t _him._

How can the world be so cruel to one person?

Peter lets out a whimper as he moves, turning his face into the balled-up hoodie beneath his head, and whispers out a word that sounds like 'May'. Tony feels his heart clench horribly and sighs heavily, sinking down into a sitting position on the cold floor. Without really thinking about it, he reaches up a hand and begins to trail his fingers softly through Peter’s hair, listening to the small puffs of air that leave the kid’s mouth every few seconds.

The sunlight continues to shine brightly through the window and Tony hates every last bit of it.

 

* * *

 

Reality 567892 is experiencing heavy thunderstorms, prolonging the darkness of the night and keeping the dawn at bay as curtains of rain fill the air.

In the largest bedroom of Stark Tower, the eerie glow of the arc reactor casts a blue light against the walls. A pair of brown eyes peer through it at the dishevelled head of hair that is resting on a pillow on the left side of the bed.

''JARVIS?''

_''Miss?’''_

''Why is there a scrawny teenager hogging all my blankets?''

 _‘'I_ _believe Master Peter had a nightmare so sought you out for comfort. He has been sleeping soundly since approximately two thirty-seven am.''_

Peter rolls over then, blinking open sleepy eyes and letting out an indignant huff. '''M'not scrawny.''

''Oh sure,'' Toni hums, snatching back some of the blankets. ''And I wasn’t voted sexiest woman alive four years in a row.''

Peter groans in disgust before retaliating. ''Scarlett Johansson beat you last year.''

''We don’t talk about that.'' Toni grumbles into her pillow.

A moment later, a head is nudging against hers and a finger pokes her side.

''Mom…Mom…Mom…''

''Pete,'' she whines. ''It’s too early for being awake. In fact, I’m going to make it illegal to be awake at this time from now on.''

''You can’t make it illegal.''

''My tower. I can do what I like.''

''Can’t.''

''JARVIS.''

_''Master Peter is correct, Miss.''_

Toni flips the ceiling off with a growl before dropping the hand to rest in Peter’s curls, carding her fingers through it in just the way she knows he likes.

''What did you dream about, bug?''

''Usual. Dust. Death. Misery…losing you.'' The last two words are tagged on to the rest in a quick mumble, almost like he didn’t want Toni to hear them.

''Still no idea where these dreams are coming from?''

The sheets rustle as Peter shakes his head. ''No. It’s just…sometimes it feels like a warning, I guess. Other times...'' he shivers, ''I don’t know, it feels like something bad has happened somewhere, or like something bad w _ill_ happen, you know?''

Toni lifts her arm to let him snuggle closer and presses a kiss to his warm forehead. They’ve spent too long out there in the dark, fighting the evilness of the world, dreaming about the sun and now that they’ve found it, Tony will be damned if anything takes it away again.

''Nothing’s coming, kiddo. We’re safe.''

  

* * *

 

On a planet within a reality that knows nothing of dust and oblivion, Tony Stark tips his head back with an overly loud groan.

''C’mon kiddo! Cap’s going to start actually looking his age if you keep us waiting any longer!''

Steve glares reproachfully over at him from his perch upon a frilly chaise longue, looking all kinds of out of place. Happy looks equally ridiculous sitting in a dainty chair patterned with lace flowers.

''I'm almost done!'' An excitable voice calls out from behind the curtain of the dressing room. ''These things are a _bitch_ to get into!''

''Does Ned know you swear like that?'' Tony calls back, flapping a hand at Steve as he readies himself to dish out his typical scolding for the use of a bad word. ''Come _on_ , kid!'' He paces around the room, arms folded and fingers drumming impatiently against his sleeves. ''I’m pacing, that’s how long we’ve been here. I’m actually pacing and you know how much I…hate…''

His words trail off as the dressing room curtain is pulled back with a flourish and Penny skips out into the room.

''What do you think?'' she asks, voice giddy as she looks down at herself. ''I mean I know it’s a bit showy and looks a bit like something Cinderella would wear but May and Pepper loved so it so I just wanted you to see because – ''

As she rambles away and tugs at the dress she’s wearing, Tony stares at her, her words washing over him. The dress is pristine white with a sleeveless bodice and a waistline that dips in prettily before flaring out into a slightly puffed skirt that swirls with a sparkly shimmer as Penny moves. The red and blue toenails of her bare feet poke daintily out from under the hem and a silver tiara gleams from where it sits upon Penny’s tousled pixie hair.

'' – look absolutely great, doesn’t she, Tony?'' Steve’s voice filters into his thoughts. ''Tony? Wait, are you crying?''

Penny’s gaze snaps up to meet Tony’s just as he draws in a shaky breath and realises that there are in fact tears clinging to his eyelashes. Her eyes flicker with uncertainty as he quickly swipes them away and tries to flash her a grin, but it instantly morphs into a soft smile of wonder.

''Kid,'' he says gently, coming to stand directly in front of her, hands reaching up to hold her arms. ''You look…'' he chuckles, suddenly at a loss for words. ''You look so much more than beautiful.''

A pretty blush blooms on Penny’s face, making the delicate smattering of freckles on her nose stand out a little.  

''Really?'' she whispers, reaching up to grasp at his elbows, fingers snagging onto his sleeves tightly.

Tony’s smile turns into a grin, the tears begin to flow more freely now as images of walking his girl down the aisle dance through his mind. ''Oh, yeah.'' He leans forward to press a kiss to Penny’s forehead. ''The most gorgeous bride I ever did see.''

 

* * *

 

Somewhere across a fractured timeline where there’s more darkness than light, the man that steps out of the cave in Afghanistan wearing a suit made of iron is full of nothing but burning rage. There’s no desire to right his wrongs, no intention of changing the course of the future for the better; no, all that exists now is the will and capability to see the world burn.

Tony Stark never pictured himself as a super-villain; hell, even when the media would tear him to shreds as his company created more and more weapons, the word villain never really came to mind.

Now? Well, if the gauntlet fits.

What follows the creation of Iron Man is years of destruction and chaos wherever he sees fit; taking lives isn’t the main objective, unless it’s someone he despises or finds irritating in some way, but if it happens then hey, that’s part of the gig. The emergence of a group of superheroes called the Avengers had been a problem; the appearance of an enthusiastic motor-mouth youngster in a red and blue suit going by the name of Spider-Man had been…

Interesting.

Tony couldn’t help but like the kid, and he knew that it was a kid under all that spandex because no self-respecting adult would jabber incessantly about science fiction movies in the middle of trying to take down the Iron Legion, Tony’s army of robots that were designed to do nothing but destroy.

The ridiculous thing is that because of the kid’s inability to just shut up, Tony actually knows Spider-Man quite well. He knows that he has a friend called Ned, that he designed the webbing for his suit himself (something Tony found most impressive indeed) and that he likes sandwiches from a deli in Queens which has a cat called Murph living in it.

He also knows that the kid is far too wholesome and innocent for this whole saving the world thing and that just adds a whole other level to his ever-growing dislike for the team that always tries to oppose him.

The Avengers, particularly Captain America, are a constant unreachable itch, a thorn in his side, and Tony relishes any opportunity he gets to take them down a peg or two, delivering devastating assaults that leave them broken and injured and, in the case of Barton and Romanoff after one particularly gruesome confrontation, smeared across the rubble strewn streets of downtown Manhattan, eyes and body empty of any signs of life. 

The kid always gets away relatively unscathed.

And Tony – _Iron Man –_ keeps it that way when a god of mischief and a bunch of murderous aliens decide to attack the city, wreaking havoc on Tony’s turf and sending the man into a blistering whirl of rage, firing repulsor beams and pulse cannon blasts and miniature missiles into everything and anything that needs to be taken down. He’s so full of indignation and a fury that borders on downright bloodthirsty, because how _dare_ they move in on his territory, that he doesn’t even realise he’s technically fighting alongside the Avengers until he sees Captain America running full pelt across the battlefield, Thor whirling his stupid hammer and crackling with lightning, a gigantic blur of green jumping from building to building –

And Spider-Man swinging directly into the fray, directly into the path of oncoming fire that will tear him to shreds –

Tony doesn’t even think as he flies directly in front of Spider-Man, wrapping himself around the kid as something hot and electric pierces his suit and buries itself into his back, his legs, his shoulders –

It seems to take them a long time to hit the ground and Tony barely feels a thing as he skids along the pavement, suit falling to pieces around him until he comes to a halt, resting haphazardly against a dusty wall.

Spider-Man appears in front of him, mask gone, revealing a terrified looking teenager with messy hair and impossibly large brown eyes. There’s a gash high up on his forehead and blood is trailing down his pale skin, but otherwise he looks unhurt.

''Jeez, you really are just a baby,'' Tony wheezes, flipping the faceplate up and grimacing as he feels the stickiness of blood clinging to his skin inside the suit.

''Mister S-Stark,'' the kid whispers, and Tony knows from the look in his eyes that it’s all over.

'''S’okay, Spider-Man,'' he says, grimacing as his head begins to spin. ''The bad guy always gets it in the end, kiddo.''

He groans as the kid eases him into a more comfortable position, leaning him properly against the wall and folding his arms into his lap, like he’s just settling in for a lazy afternoon doze in his favourite chair, if he were to ever have one.

Which, he supposes, he never will.

Tony looks at the boy’s face again and feels a funny sensation in his stomach, a familiar feeling long since dead, something he hadn’t experienced since long before he lost Pepper.

Fondness.

''You’re a good kid, you know…'' Tony mumbles, frowning as his vision grows darker and his chest becomes tighter with each laboured breath.

The kid looks at him sadly, honey-brown eyes shining with an unmistakable wetness.

''And you’re a good man, Mister Stark. I’ve always thought so...I’m sorry such bad things happened to you.''

It’s a nice sentiment; just nice enough to allow Tony Stark to smile a true smile before his eyes close and his body becomes still.

 

* * *

 

On a planet Earth that sits two or three decades in the past and two stars left of another dimension, a young Tony Stark is on a bike with a kid perched awkwardly in front of him on the frame, arms reaching back to hold onto Tony’s knees in a pinching grip.

Tony peddles furiously, head craning round to see over Peter’s shoulder as they race down the road. Clint, Steve, Brue and Nat are hot on his heels, panting heavily and shouting breathlessly to each other as they ride along behind.

_Gotta get away gotta get Peter to the ship gotta get him home._

They round a corner and Steve barely shouts out a cheer of ''we made it'' before hands are grabbing at them, voices are shouting out demands for them to stop and people in suits are running at them from all directions. Tony swears and increases his speed, pushes the peddles faster, muscles straining under the effort –

And then he sees the guns.

Police cars block the road ahead with multiple officers holding rifles standing beside them; rifles that are aimed directly at Tony, at his friends –

_At Peter._

Tony presses his face into the space between Peter’s shoulders, eyes clenching shut, wishing that it didn’t have to end like this, wishing that he could have done more to keep his friend - his strange human-looking friend from outer space with all the crazy powers - safe and free from the cruelty of the world.

He feels a strange sensation beneath his feet and his eyes snap open as he hears Peter laugh triumphantly. The summer air rushes past him as his bike, as _all_ of the bikes, fly into the air, high above the heads of the officers, past the threat of the guns, and soar up towards the clouds.

''Holy shit!'' Clint yells over Nat’s hysterical giggling and Tony sucks in a shaky breath, holding the handlebars in a fierce grip as they sail along, climbing higher and higher, pedals and wheels moving uselessly as Peter guides them along.

''Tell me when it’s over!'' Bruce wails loudly.

''H-how are you doing this?'' Tony whispers to Peter, glancing down at the rooftops of the houses far below them.

Peter turns his head to look back at him. Bright eyes glitter at him in the fading light of the day as he gives Tony a secretive smile that Tony can only return with a wonder-filled one of his own. His head tilts into Peter’s as they carry on, flying on and on towards the forest, gliding weightlessly like shooting stars across the sky as it becomes awash with a cascading pattern of red and orange, the setting sun turning radiant as it begins to sink low on the horizon.

_We’re gonna make it we’re gonna make it we’re gonna make it._

Peter turns to look at him again and Tony’s heart leaps into his throat at the sound of his friend’s silvery voice. ''Yeah, Tony, we are.''

 

* * *

 

 

Several skips across the universe, Tony Stark rolls his eyes and groans as somebody else joins him on the roof.

''Hey, Iron Boy.''

''Ugh. I told you, it’s Iron _Man,_ Iron _Man,_ can you just – surely you’re not so old that you’re already senile?''

He turns away with a scowl as Spider-Man chuckles. ''Okay, Iron _Man._ You wanna tell me what you’re doing up here at two am on a school night?''

''You’re the genius, Mister Parker. Figure it out.''

''You’re not still sulking because I benched you last week, are you?'' The mask of the Spider-Man suit flickers away to reveal the face of Peter Parker.

Tony snorts. ''You didn’t _bench_ me _._ I quit.''

''Uh huh.'' Peter takes a seat beside him. ''And you quitting usually involves shouting a bunch of highly inappropriate insults at me and storming off after I tell you to sit out because you’re hurt, does it?''

''I didn’t need to sit out!''

''Kid, your suit had lost all power – ''

''I could have handled it – ''

''And I’m not prepared to let you risk your life so recklessly!'' Peter’s usually cheerful voice turns hard and authoritative. ''You need to realise that you’re still just a kid, Tony. You can’t just go flying headfirst into dangerous situations like that.'' Peter sighed loudly. ''I can’t always be there to bail you out.''

''I don’t need you to bail me out – ''

''Would you stop behaving like a moody teenage brat for five seconds and just listen?'' Peter levelled him with an uncharacteristically firm glare. ''It’s not a game, Tony. Just because you’re smart enough to build yourself a suit of armour doesn’t mean you can just fly in and save the day.''

Tony sucks in a breath to throw out a blistering retort but Peter swipes a hand through the air between them.

''Uh uh, still talking. What if people die, huh? What if things go wrong, because they do, buddy, a lot of the time, and what would you do then, I wonder? If someone dies, that’s on you, sure, but if _you_ die – ''

Peter pauses and shakes his head. ''I feel like that would be on me.''

Tony looks at the man next to him. With his messy hair, big eyes and light dusting of scruff around his jaw, he looks so much younger than Tony knows he really is. The whole world knows Peter Parker, the billionaire, the genius, the philanthropist, the man who got bitten by a radioactive spider and decided to become a superhero because of it. Tony knows Mister Parker, a kind and generous man, a strangely shy but vivacious man, someone who took a liking to Tony when he first turned up during an alien vision in a red and gold iron suit and demanded to be allowed to fight.

More importantly, Tony knows _Peter_ ; someone who gives Tony attention and time and support.

Someone who cares about him.

The faceplate of the Iron Man suit flips away and Tony deflates, all fight and snark oozing out of him. ''I just…want to be like you.''

A hand falls into his hair and ruffles it softly.

Peter smiles gently at him. ''Be _better_ than me, buddy.''

 

* * *

 

In another version of days gone by, Earth in 2016 looks a little bit different. Free of conflict and lacking in disagreements that turn friends into enemies and love into hatred, it’s a much simpler and peaceful time.

Stark Tower rises up against the scorched sky, sparkling silver against the wash of orange light as the sun goes down over the horizon.

The hallways and rooms that make up the upper floors echo with laughter and voices void of everything but playfulness and fond exasperation.

It’s warm, homely, _safe._

Except for those currently eating pizza.

''Alright, which one of you moochers forgot to order a plain cheese?''

Five pairs of eyes turn to look at Tony as he looms over the couch, arms folded and expression grim, looking all kinds of intimidating despite the Iron Man pyjamas he’s wearing. The pizza boxes that lay scattered across the table hold various bases and toppings, but not the one that Tony seeks, and it’s clear to everybody else that he’s not happy about it.

Thor swallows a slice whole before responding. ''My friend, it was definitely ordered. Are you sure it isn’t in the kitchen?''

''Well, unless the cleaning fairy,'' Tony glowers at Steve who holds up his hands in a 'what did I do?' motion, ''has moved it, it’s definitely not been ordered.''

''Here,'' Clint grabs the box containing the fungi pizza and holds it up. ''You can pick the mushrooms off this one!''

Tony sneers at the pizza in disgust and bats Clint away. ''How is it that you all asked me for a pizza and pyjama party, I make it happen,'' he makes a sweeping gesture to highlight the food and the personalised pyjama sets everybody is wearing, ''and yet somehow I’m the one who ends up out in the cold? Someone explain.''

The jumbled chorus of answers that fly at him are interrupted as a tapping sound echoes from above. Glancing up, Tony starts at the sight of Spider-Man sitting on the skylight. An open pizza box rests beside him on the glass and a slice of half eaten pizza is grasped in one of his hands.

Tony narrows his eyes and points up at him. ''That better not be my plain cheese.''

The eyes of the suit widen to comically large proportions. ''I’m sorry it’s just that I was running late because there was a robbery downtown, and then I got halfway here and had to turn back ‘cause I forgot those pyjamas you bought me which are _awesome_ by the way thank you so much, and then Ned wanted to compare answers for that chemistry test we had and so by the time I got here I was sooo hungry and the pizza guy was here unloading the boxes from his bike and I just – ''

''- Stole my plain cheese pizza.''

''No that’s not – look!'' The box is tilted so Tony can see the slices that remain. ''There’s still some left!''

Even with the mask obscuring his view, Tony knows that the kid’s face is all kinds of earnest with big puppy dog eyes. He growls and palms his face as the others chuckle knowingly around him.

''C-can I still come to the pizza pyjama party?'' The kid – Peter – asks after a moment, voice sounding so soft and young that it makes Tony’s insides fizzle with way too much affection.

''Get in here, idiot. And bring my pizza with you. I’m starving.''

''You know he gets hangry!'' Clint’s shout is muffled through the mouthful of pizza. Nat cuffs him over the head and mutters something in Russian about manners.

''The disrespect!'' Tony shouts to nobody in particular before glaring accusingly over at Steve again. ''This is your fault, you know,'' he tells his smirking husband, ''ever since we officially adopted him, it’s been nothing but sass and spidery antics.''

''Nothing to do with him being a teenager who happened to get bitten by a radioactive spider shortly after we adopted him then?'' Steve asks teasingly.

''Nope.'' Tony says stubbornly, watching warily as Peter climbs through the window. ''All your fault.''

Later that night, after much more pizza and even more laughter, it’s only Tony and Steve left awake. Clint and Nat are curled up together with barely an inch of space between them, Thor is sprawled like a starfish on the fluffy rug by the fireplace and Bruce snores softly from the armchair. Peter, looking all kinds of adorable in his fuzzy Spider-Man onesie, sighs contently as he nuzzles his head further into the side of Tony’s thigh, cheek rubbing against the soft material of his Iron Man pyjama pants. Tony’s fingers push tenderly through the kid’s curls and he leans further back into the couch with a sigh, smiling as he hears Steve start to hum 'It’s Been a Long Long Time' softly beside him, the soothing baritone of his husband’s voice drawing a warm blanket of comfort over them all and sending Tony off to sleep without a worry in the world.

 

* * *

 

In a reality that almost perfectly mirrors another, Tony Stark, shredded and torn and beyond all repair, mutters a gravelly ''Hey, Pep,'' as his wife kneels in front of him, holding his aching fingers with an iron hand.

''We’re going to be okay,'' she tells him, eyes wet above her smile, the smile that he loves oh so much.

He hopes that’s true, because Peter is there and he’s crying, and Tony can’t even lift an arm to comfort him and he doesn’t want Peter to cry, doesn’t want him to feel any kind of hurt, ever.

There’s so much he thinks that he wanted to say, to do, but everything’s fading now, slipping away, except for the sound of Peter’s tears and the soothing voice of Pepper as she leans in close, smile bright and loving for him, always for him.

There’s a sense of peace washing over him now, a foreign sensation but one that he welcomes as it blooms across all the hurt, all the sorrow, and lifts him out of the darkness.

''You can rest now.''

The peace overcomes him then and with a final breath, he lets go.

 

* * *

 

Far across space and time, within the cascading beauty of the Milky Way, there resides the version of reality that the universe favours above all else. Upon a planet that has endured so much, in a time where the war has ended and peace is no longer a dream, Tony Stark opens his eyes to the smiling faces of his children.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This got waaaayyy darker than I ever intended it to; I went and saw Endgame again with my best friend over the weekend and oh man, it completely broke my all over again – did anyone notice that it looks like Tony holds Peter’s hand to his chest when he’s dying or did I just imagine that?! Anyway, all of it, especially the hug, the music playing during the funeral, it just tipped me over the edge! So I think some of that bled through into this haha but hopefully the nice parts make up for it! 
> 
> There’s a hundred different ideas I could have used here with alllll the characters but it would have just gone on and on haha. 
> 
> I spent so long lurking in the background of this fandom, loving all the stories and the fanon and just soaking up as much as I could without really interacting much, and now my love for it has just increased tenfold since I started writing for it so I just want to say thank you to everyone who has read and liked my stories, I utterly adore these characters and am honoured to be a part of it all <3


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